by J Bree
To the End
Hannaford Prep Year Four
J Bree
To all of the readers who have gone on this crazy ride with me - this book is for you.
And to Lips - you walked into my head and wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote you. Thanks, kid.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Also by J Bree
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Prologue
Blaise
Star looks down at the box and I don’t have to be psychic to know whose head is in the fucking thing. She looks like it’s the worst possible choice and her face is blank before her eyes flick back up to the deranged serial killer at the table.
Joey is dead.
I can’t say I’m sorry to see that psychotic fuck go but as Senior’s eyes bore into my girl I kinda wish Joey was still breathing. How the fuck do we get out of this?
Harley knocks my leg under the table and I dip my chin a fraction so he knows he’s got my attention. He traces an ‘A’ on the table in front of him, an old signal we’ve used a million times before.
He’s telling me to get Avery the hell out of here and for the first time I’m torn. She’s not cut out for when shit goes south like this, not physically at least. Someday that girl is going to dance on a big stage and have pompous rich dickheads falling at her feet. She can’t afford to be injured but more than that.
We can’t afford for Ash to see his sister hurt.
I’m fairly certain Ash is more dangerous than Senior, one-on-one. It’s the damn statement about the cops that has me worried. What the fuck is Star going to do?
It’s only that I’m watching her so closely that I see her pass her phone to Avery under the table, and Floss’ face stays carefully blank and her fingers move swiftly across the screen by memory alone.
“How much do you owe your buyer? Now that you can’t deliver?” Lips says, her voice so fucking flat and bored I’m impressed.
The serial killer just ignores her, cutting his steak up into tiny pieces with surgeon-like precision. He takes his time, waiting until he has a piece speared on his fork before answering her. “What’s in the box, little girl? Who is delivering parcels to you during my time?”
She leans back in her chair, cool and calm. “Answer my question, Beaumont. The box is none of your concern.”
He doesn’t like that. Not one fucking bit.
His lip curls at her, slowly shifting into a cruel smirk that makes him look deranged. “He was very interested in her, I don’t think even the Wolf of Mounts Bay could convince the Devil not to take what is his. Run along, go hide her. He’ll only enjoy the chase.”
The Devil.
Harley’s fingers twitch and I bump his leg with mine, reminding him that we’ll be fucking fine.
We’ve survived the kinds of hell people couldn’t even dream.
Why not add the Devil to the mix?
Lips stands, smoothing her dress down like Avery does, and we all stand with her. Even that stupid fuck Atticus.
“I’d thank you for the meal, but your company has been… lacking.” Lips says, tucking her hand into Harley’s and tugging him away from the table. Avery looks up at me and I give her a curt nod.
Senior watches Lips’ back like he’s imagining all of the things he’s going to carve into her skin and get off to and I can’t fucking take it.
Apparently, neither can Ash.
“Here. Just so you know we did our best to get him here. He seems to be… otherwise occupied.” Ash sneers, and pushes the box until Joey’s head rolls out.
I could fucking vomit.
I hold it in, because no one else looks sick and I’ll be fucked if I’m the only one puking over this shit, and I tug Avery away from the table.
Two of Senior’s bodyguards jolt away from the far wall, ready to throw themselves at Ash and Lips, and I hesitate for a second.
I shouldn’t bother.
Illi palms two meat cleavers and throws them across the room.
Avery makes a little noise in the back of her throat and I decide pretty fucking quick that I need to keep her walking. We stalk through the restaurant at a slow enough pace that no one notices us but still cutting through the building pretty fucking quick.
Avery hums under her breath, completely distracted by whatever-the-fuck-it-is she’s piecing together in that evil genius brain of hers. I’m too busy trying to look out for more of Senior’s men to question her.
When we get to the exit, there are cop cars everywhere and I curse viciously under my breath, but there’s also more than a hundred motorbikes with scary-ass bikers on them, starting fights with the pigs and smashing up the cars.
Right.
Lips called in a favor.
There’s a biker leaning against the wall of the restaurant, watching us both intensely. He’s wearing a president patch so I figure out pretty quickly he’s the Boar.
Avery stares right back at him, cataloging every fucking inch of the man until I bump her shoulder with mine to distract her. I don’t need her accidentally starting shit with a member of the fucking Twelve while Star isn’t here.
“Does he look familiar to you?” She murmurs, and I shake my head.
“I don’t exactly spend much time with dirty bikers, Floss.”
She purses her lips at me, something she does when she thinks I’m being particularly stupid. I fucking hate it.
“I need to speak to Atticus. I need to look into Lips’ background. We know nothing about who her family really is. Or her father.”
I blink at her.
What the fuck?
Chapter One
Standing in the forest at the edge of the city limits in Mounts Bay feels different this time around.
The last time I stood here it was to compete in the Game myself. I killed two men, stabbed one through the eye and bashed the other’s skull in with a large rock after I’d knocked him, but it’s more than just that. Last time I was here I was desperate right down to my core. Desperate to eat, to live, to survive this hellhole.
Now I have something to lose.
Avery has her hand tucked in mine and her phone is, for once, switched off and left behind in Blaise’s Maserati. There’s a strict ban on electronics during the Game and nothing that will happen here tonight is worth the risk of being caught with a smartphone. Illi stands on her other side, arms crossed and the signature Butcher scowl on his features, looking every inch the nightmare that he’s known to be on the streets in the Bay. Harley and Blaise stand a step behind us, muttering quietly together at the show of masculine strength before us.
Ash shifts from where he stands beside me, a sneer on his face as he stares th
e O’Cronin family down. I ignore them completely, pissed they’re trying to get the upper hand on me like this. Liam and Domhnall keep making remarks that would get them gutted if we weren’t here and doing this. But, fuck my life, we are and I have to keep my mouth shut until we know who’s won.
Every member of the Twelve are present, as required, and there’s a huge crowd of loyal men watching. Everyone here wears the colors they’ve been inducted into, everyone here belongs to someone.
The Jackal stands on the other side of the clearing. His eyes haven’t left me, not even once. I know this for sure even though I haven’t so much as glanced at him, because Avery’s hand is tense in mine. She’s watching him.
The Crow is watching the Jackal too, careful never to let his eyes land on Avery.
What a fucking mess.
The gurgling sound of the idiot on the ground draws me back to what we’re doing. The Vulture needs replacing and the only way to replace the repulsive cretin is to hold the Game.
I have to attend every damn trial and watch as men, boys, and a few young girls all brutally beat and slaughter each other. It’s enough to turn a strong stomach and I’m oddly proud of Avery for refusing to stay back at the Ranch she’s got us holed up in, safe and secure now the Coyote has installed his security over every inch of the place.
There’s shouting from the crowd and I let my eyes wander over the bodies to assess where we’re at in terms of numbers. A lot of red and black. Too close to tell who has brought more muscle along.
The Coyote shifts and walks over to stand at my side. Ash glares at him, enough that I grit my teeth at him but the asshole could not give less of a fuck about protocol. The Coyote, thankfully, doesn’t seem to care.
“Which one are you hoping wins? I like the kid.” He murmurs, leaning into me.
I can smell Viola Ayres’ perfume on him and smirk at him. She’s not here. He’s smart enough to leave his little captured rich girl at home in his bunker where the Jackal can’t kill her stealthily.
“The kid will cause me issues if he wins, but I don’t really care either way.” I murmur back, lying through my teeth.
Anyone but the kid, fuck, anyone but the kid.
The Coyote’s eyes flick behind us to Harley and he smirks. “Sure. I thought we were friends now, Lips?”
The fucker is playing with fire. The Crow hears his use of my name and shoots him a glare. I ignore him.
I no longer fear that man. Not when Avery holds his balls in the palm of her perfectly manicured hand.
Ok, I don’t think a man like Atticus Crawford will ever be truly whipped but I know when it comes down to it, he’s not going to hurt her and threatening me would truly hurt my ice queen bestie.
“How is Viola doing?” Avery murmurs, and the Coyote grimaces.
“She’d like to go home and see her sister, but the little love-spat the Wolf has going on is ruining that for her.”
I cringe and Ash gives the Coyote a look that could kill, hissing at him, “It’s not a love anything. He’s fucking deranged.”
The Coyote laughs dismissively. “You’d know all about deranged, wouldn’t you Beaumont? Where is your brother these days? Viola has told me all about your family.”
I keep my face carefully blank. No one here needs to know about Joey’s death. Avery’s eyes flick away from the Jackal for the first time to land on the Boar.
He’s watching us all.
I make a note to ask her what the hell she’s planning later. She’s become weirdly interested in bikers lately.
I’m starting to think she’s going to great lengths to get over her infatuation with Atticus and I’m so not interested in dragging her off of the back of some dirty biker’s hog.
I hear the sickening crunch of bones breaking and look down to find the fight is over. With my heart in my throat, I stare down at the victor who is panting and sweating but wholly unharmed, and fuck, we have a problem.
Aodhan O’Cronin has won.
There’s an O'Cronin in the Twelve.
The Crow steps forward, cutting the Jackal a look when he attempts to step forward as well. Oh yay, a pissing contest. Harley shifts behind me, the sounds of his body moving something my entire body is now in-tuned with.
“You’ve won, welcome to the Twelve. You’re replacing the Vulture. Who do you choose to be?” The Crow says, and Aodhan smirks. Fuck, he looks way too much like Diarmuid when he does that.
“The Stag.”
How fitting for the Irish mobster. I’m sure he’s going to be a whole new pain in my ass. When he glances my way I tip my head to him respectfully. I’m not having the little fuck try to use the bad blood between us as an excuse to stick a knife in me.
Liam and Domhnall start to whoop and cheer like fucking children, and I force myself not to roll my eyes. Avery drops my hand and steps back, preparing for whatever violence is about to come thanks to their antics, because the look Ash gives them is pretty fucking telling.
The dinner meeting with his father seems to have burned away what little restraint he had and now he’s eager for blood.
I don’t want to wait around to see how far he wants to take it, so I catch his eye and tilt my head until he gives me a curt nod. The groups splits off and Harley carefully directs me away, making sure to act as though he’s shielding me and being a bodyguard rather than what he’s really doing, which is pushing me around to get me the fuck away from his family before Liam or Domhnall try to knife me.
Of course the mobster fuck can’t just let me leave without starting shit.
“Wolf.”
Harley freezes and shifts until he’s blocking me from his cousin completely. I give him a look and duck around him, ignoring the vicious curse he murmurs under his breath. Illi takes my side immediately and Ash steps up to my other side, his icy stare sending little shivers down my spine.
Fuck, he’s hot when he goes all Beaumont-killer on someone for me.
Aodhan ignores the wall of muscular threat and meets my eyes, unflinching. “I don’t want to start my time amongst the Twelve with conflict.”
I barely contain the snort at his words and my eyes flick to his father. Domhnall smirks at me and I quirk an eyebrow at him. “There’s more conflict amongst the Twelve than there has ever been before. Your family’s issues are small in comparison.”
The other members of the Twelve have all stopped to watch us. I feel the unease settle in my gut at having another fucking threat to worry about.
Aodhan’s eyes trail over Harley, taking in his size and the vicious look on his face and the tattoo Domhnall and Liam forced on him as a kid. He glances back at me and flicks out a hand as if he’s cutting through the bullshit surrounding us.. “As I said, I don’t want any of the conflict to be about me. What is it going to take for you to let go of what my family has done to… yours.”
He’s damned fucking right that Harley’s my family, my boyfriend, mine.
I cross my arms. “While your father and grandfather breathe, I will never let it go. Your uncles too. Every last O’Cronin involved with what happened to Iris. Loyalty is highly valued in the Twelve and what they did to one of their own, it just doesn’t sit right with me.”
The loyalty isn’t the half of it. What they did to Iris, when they killed Éibhear in front of Harley, they put themselves on this path. I’ve tied their hands for now but someday, when we have less on our plates, I’ll give them exactly what they deserve.
Aodhan glances back to Harley and my golden god smirks at him, saying in a low tone, “You’re not going to give the Wolf that, are you? You’re not so fucking desperate for friends within the Twelve that you’d get rid of the spineless, manipulative cunts.”
Aodhan smirks and shrugs. “You underestimate me, cousin.”
Then he reaches back to palm his gun from the holster at the base of his spine and-
And fucking shoots his father. Right between the eyes.
Liam O’Cronin gasps, his eyes peeled back and a stupid lo
ok of disbelief on his face, and then a second bullet comes out of Aodhan’s gun and lands in his temple. There’s brain matter fucking everywhere and I wince when I hear Avery take a large step away from the mess. Blaise moves with her, still covering her, and for the first time the Crow’s eyes flick over to the object of his infatuation.
The Jackal is still watching me.
Fuck me, this situation couldn’t get any worse.
As if to prove me wrong, Ash and Illi both draw their weapons of choice, and I grab Ash’s wrist to stop him from actually shooting Aodhan.
I wait until everyone has taken a breath, and then I raise an eyebrow.
Aodhan looks at me and I see the shift start to take place in his eyes. The shifting from who he was, into who he is now amongst the Twelve. The Stag is born here in the blood soaked dirt the same way the Wolf was.
He smiles at me, a baring of teeth that isn’t all that threatening. Not to me. “Are you satisfied, Wolf, or should I send you the heads of all of my uncles? Say the word and I’ll do it.”
My blood turns to ice and Ash’s eyes narrow.
It has to be a coincidence. It’s a term of phrase, right?! I glance over my shoulder to find Avery staring at the Boar again and, fuck me, I need to ask her what the hell is going on there.
“If you think killing them buys you my friendship, you’re wrong. I’m not entirely sure why you want it so badly in the first place. Finding your feet and building up your name takes time, and connections. You should be cozying up to the Jackal or the Crow.” I say, and I keep my voice calm and level.
